"A wonderfully peaceful spot," said the Angel.
"True," said his dragoman. "We might fly sixty miles in any direction and not see a house in repair."
"Let us!" said the Angel. They flew a hundred, and alighted again.
"Same here!" said his dragoman. "This is Leicestershire. Note the rolling landscape of wild pastures."
"I am getting hungry," said the Angel. "Let us fly again."
"I have told you, sir," remarked his dragoman, while they were flying, "that we shall have the greatest difficulty in finding any inhabited dwelling in the country. Had we not better alight at Blackton or Bradleeds?"
"No," said the Angel. "I have come for a day in the fresh air."
"Would bilberries serve?" asked his dragoman; "for I see a man gathering them."
The Angel closed his wings, and they dropped on to a moor close to an aged man.
"My worthy wight," said the Angel, "we are hungry. Would you give us some of your bilberries?"